Pir Baksh renders Tynan a Service
This conversation with the chief commissioner took place one morning in
late September. In the afternoon of the same day, Ted Russell was
ordered to attend upon Sir John Lawrence. The great man looked at the
boy with a keen penetrating glance, which, though it seemed to pierce
him through and through, yet brought with it an assurance of confidence
and kindness.
Sir John seem pleased by the inspection.
"So you are the lad who blew up the arsenal?" he asked, a wonderfully
pleasant smile lighting up the rugged face.
"It's still in dispute, sir," said Ted, smiling in spite of his
trepidation.
"What do you suppose has caused Ensign Tynan to make this claim?"
"I wish I knew, sir. Whilst watching them in court yesterday the idea
struck me that Pir Baksh, the mutineer, had somehow got a hold over
him."
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir. He was watching Tynan as a cat watches a mouse, and it struck
me that he had made some sort of a bargain with Tynan to save him from
death at the hands of the rebels if Tynan would whitewash his character.
And it struck me that Tynan was sorry he'd ever been trapped into such a
bargain."
Sir John's elbow was on the table and his head rested on the palm of
his hand. Ted felt that he was reading his inmost thoughts.
"And perhaps," he remarked at length, "perhaps Pir Baksh considered that
such whitewashing would be of little avail if it could be shown that
Tynan had been guilty of cowardice, and so the lad has to pose as a
hero? ... Um! It's just possible."
"I never thought of that, sir," said Ted with obvious admiration.
"I do not doubt your honour, Ensign Russell, and I mean to employ you
upon an errand needing strength of character. Take this sealed letter to
the officer in command at Amritsar. It is in cipher, and the key is
found by reading every sixth word beginning at the end. The road, though
safe enough for large bodies, is perilous for a small number; but
Colonel Bratherton can only send two troopers with you. Go to him at
once for horse and escort."
"Yes, sir."
"And understand, Ensign Russell, that should you be captured and have no
time to destroy the letter, you must on no account disclose the key--on
_no_ account!"
"I will not, sir."
Ted saluted and withdrew, greatly pleased by this signal mark of the
confidence reposed in him. An hour after he had started, Ensign Tynan in
his turn was standing before Sir John Lawrence.
"And so you believe that Russell meant to ruin your reputation out of
spite? That is a very grave accusation, young man."
"I can't help it, sir. It's a fact, and my word is as good as his, and I
have witnesses whilst he has none."
"Native evidence, I must remind you, Mr. Tynan, is not difficult to
obtain. However, I cannot decide between you, and I have not sent for
you to discuss that affair."
He proceeded to give Tynan a similar letter and precisely the same
instructions and warning as those given to Ted. Tynan repaired to
Colonel Bratherton, who supplied him with an escort consisting of Pir
Baksh and two troopers, and with these he set out for Amritsar.
Night closed in with Indian abruptness before Tynan had covered half the
distance. Suddenly a body of horsemen blocked the way. Tynan drew a
pistol, but before he could take aim his arms were seized by the
troopers of the escort, and he was roughly dragged to the ground. A
search was made, and the letter was quickly brought to light.
Pir Baksh had been seized in like manner and was dropped beside Tynan,
bound hand and foot. Tynan recognized the uniform of his assailants as
that of the 60th Native Cavalry, and he remembered hearing that this
rebel corps had been hovering about this stretch of the Grand Trunk Road
for some days. The two troopers of his escort declared for the rebels at
the first hint of danger. Somehow Harry Tynan was much more cool and
collected than on the last occasion of a similar experience, and he was
not nearly so frightened. Perhaps the explanation can be found in the
fact that his present state of existence was so miserable that no change
could be greatly for the worse.
The sowars took little notice of their prisoner. Two native officers,
who seemed to have some knowledge of English, were eagerly scrutinizing
Sir John's communication, the rest looking on. But the missive was
evidently a poser, and the expressions of triumph changed to annoyance
and chagrin as they shook their heads and gave up the puzzle.
"They will understand it," said one. "Make them explain."
The speaker nodded towards the prostrate captives, who were quickly
kicked into a sitting posture and ordered to supply the key to the
cipher. Pir Baksh was eagerness itself. He hastened to assure them that
nothing would delight him more.
"This pig beside me," said he, "he knows the secret, and will quickly
inform if you threaten him. As for me, I hate the Feringhis, having been
their prisoner. Set free my hands, and I myself will question this cur
and make him confess. Ugh! the very sight of him makes me ill. Coward,
liar, and traitor is he!"
"If thou dost hate him so," asked a Mohammedan ressaidar, "why wert thou
riding by his side as a friend? Thou canst not take us in so easily."
"Because my own safety obliged me to call him friend. This fellow blew
up the Aurungpore magazine--he says he did so. Of course we must believe
him, though I myself saw him trembling like a leaf begging for mercy. By
me was he saved from the debris, saved that I might have the better
revenge; and first I humbugged him into giving me a _chit_, saying I was
loyal--I, Pir Baksh, leader of the rebels in Aurungpore!"
The subadar related the whole of the miserable business.
"It is true," said Tynan with quiet despair. "Save his life, for he is
the blackest villain in Asia, and I had rather die alone than with him
as comrade. Kill me and I shall be glad to get away from him."
A native officer cut the bonds, and bade Pir Baksh get up.
"Get the key from the cub, then. If he gives it willingly his life shall
be spared. If not, do as thou wilt."
Pir Baksh smiled in pleasant anticipation, and humbly addressed his
quondam officer.
"Will the protector of the poor deign to supply his slave with the
explanation of that letter?"
Harry Tynan looked him straight between the eyes and said never a word.
The poor lad had suffered much during the past three months, and again
and again his own vileness had been laid bare to him. He had enough of
good in his nature to shudder at the prospect. The lies he had told, the
public whitewashing for his own ends of the villain Pir Baksh, the
bribing of Dwarika Rai and the other Rajputs, all these had gone against
the grain, but never had he seen his own meanness so clearly, until now
that he knew that even this most contemptible scoundrel regarded him
with far greater contempt.
Pir Baksh had rendered Tynan a service at last, for he had made a man of
him. Then and there the ensign resolved that nothing should drag from
him the secret of the cypher--that Pir Baksh should understand he was
not wholly a coward. The rascal poised his sword above the boy's head.
"First I am going to slice off the right ear, then the left. If that is
not enough, Ensign Sahib, I fear that the nose must go. After that--"
Here he smiled and added: "But I think the sahib will not be so
discourteous as to refuse his slave's request. Speak quickly or thine
ear goes!"
Tynan turned a few shades paler, but he bit his lip and answered not a
word. Amazed at this unlooked-for defiance the subadar hesitated--and
someone sprang in front of Tynan, a fist shot out and was stopped by the
nose of the Mussulman, who toppled over, and was instantly disarmed by
two sowars, who knelt upon the traitor's chest and mocked his cries of
rage.
"It's all serene, Tynan, old chap!" cried the voice of Ted Russell.
"We're going to scrag that brute!"
He cut Tynan's bonds, whilst others trussed up the rebel, and I fear
that no trouble was taken to spare him discomfort.
"It's all been a put-up job," Ted went on. "They collared me in the same
way, meaning to test us by threats, to find out if either would betray
the cipher. This is Lieutenant Kendal who's in command."
A short and rather "tubby" figure, arrayed in a rebel garb, came forward
from the background and apologized for having been compelled to treat
them roughly. He was obeying instructions, and assured them of his
pleasure that neither had betrayed the trust.
"Yes, but you know everything now," said Tynan sullenly. "It was mean of
you, Russell, to play this trick."
"I had no hand in it, Tynan, and was treated in much the same way an
hour ago, except that they only threatened me with death, not torture;
so you came out of the ordeal better than I, and I respect you for it."
"That's all very well. You come out with flying colours and I'm ruined.
I say, Lieutenant Kendal, let me clear away. I don't care what happens
to me, but I simply can't face the fellows who knew me. Only let me go,
and I'll disappear completely."
"Sorry I can't do that, Mr. Tynan, but I have orders to take you back
before Sir John. By Jove, I'll say all I can for you, though, and though
Jan Larens can be stern he's really kindness itself. Make a clean breast
of it, youngster."
They rode back in silence, and the pretended rebels repaired to their
comrades of the Sikh Cavalry to relate a marvellous story of the wisdom
of Jan Larens, from whom nothing could remain hidden. The great
statesman was still hard at work at his unending task, but when he heard
the lieutenant's tale he bade him send Tynan in. He greeted the boy with
mingled kindness and sadness.
"This is a pitiable tale, youngster," he said, "though you have done
your best to redeem it to-night, I am told. Tell me all about it, and
keep nothing back. Regard me as one who wishes to help you."
Tynan broke down under the prolonged strain, and, bursting into tears,
sobbed like a child. Bit by bit the grim though kindly ruler drew forth
the whole story of temptation, hesitation, and fall, of misery and of
lie upon lie that had gradually sunk the boy deeper in the morass.
"Sit down," he said. "You have been punished. Are you sorry it has all
come to light?"
"Indeed I am not, sir. I feel as though a great weight had been taken
away. I suppose I shall be hounded from the service at least, sir."
"I hardly think you would wish to remain in the army?" said Sir John
gravely.
"I want to get away from everyone, sir, and I know I don't deserve any
consideration. But I never meant to do it, sir. He led me on, and got me
in his power."
"You have been punished--and you may be thankful for it, my lad, for you
will have a better chance of a happy useful life than had your claim
proved successful. This evening you acted like a man, and I will take
upon myself to accept your resignation."
"Thank you, sir!" said Tynan joyfully, for he had never expected this.
"Oh, thank you, sir! I will try to do better."
"You may set out again for Amritsar this night, and join Green's column
at Umballa as a volunteer under an assumed name, if you can overtake
them. I will give you credentials, and when the mutiny is crushed you
may leave the country as you think best. My advice is to do your duty
like a man as long as there is fighting to be done, and then return at
once to England."
"Thank you, sir! I could wish for nothing better, and it's more than I
deserve. I'll be a different man after this lesson. Indeed I will, sir."
"God help you to keep that resolution, my lad! Good-night!"
Breakfast was just over when the summons came for Ted. Sir John motioned
him to take a seat.
"You have been thoroughly vindicated, Mr. Russell. Tynan has told me
everything, and I congratulate you on having done your duty. You have
suffered great anxiety and disappointment, but there is no doubt that
you will obtain the reward you so highly deserve."
This virtual promise that the former recommendation would hold good, and
that the Victoria Cross--most coveted of honours--would be his, dazzled
our hero for a space. To Ted's credit be it said that his next thought
was for poor Tynan.
"Thank you, sir! I--I hope Tynan won't be disgraced, sir. It was not
altogether his fault."
"It will be necessary," said Sir John gravely, "to make public
sufficient to clear your character. I have allowed him to resign, and he
clears out to-night. I am glad, my lad, that you should have considered
him."
"Wait a moment," said the ruler of the Punjab as Ted rose to go. "How
would you like a commission in a corps of Irregular Horse?"
"Punjabis, sir?"
"Yes. Colonel Boldre, whose regiment has mutinied, is raising a corps in
the Balandghar district, and he has written to ask me if you may join
him. I think it would be a good thing, and should advise you to jump at
the chance."
"Is there any likelihood of seeing active service with them, sir?"
The great statesman burst into one of his hearty laughs. He remembered
the days when he was the age of Ted Russell--how he had longed to be a
soldier like his father, who had led the forlorn hope at Seringapatam,
or like his hero-brother Henry. The chuckles ceased, giving place to a
sad smile as he thought of those past days. "A soldier I was born, and
a soldier I will be!" he had declared as a lad, for all his family were
soldiers. But the Lawrences were poor, and the civil service gave better
remuneration than the military, and for his mother's and sisters' sakes
John Lawrence had put aside the dream of his boyhood that he might earn
enough to keep them from want. He knit his great brows and looked Ted up
and down, and the boy did not know whether the grim administrator was
pleased or displeased with him.
"So you have not smelt enough powder, eh?" he asked at length.
"I want to do my share, sir."
"Boldre's Horse are going to Cawnpore to join Sir Colin Campbell at
once. The colonel will be setting out from Balandghar in a day or two,
with perhaps a couple of hundred sowars, Sikhs, Pathans, and Punjabi
Mohammedans. Mr. Jackson is raising a few score Sikhs and Dogras for him
in the Jalandar district, and you are to set out at once to take charge
of them, joining your commandant at Delhi."
"Thank you, sir! it's just what I should have chosen."
"Very good! but remember this. Do your duty with just as much
thoroughness whether it seem attractive or the reverse. Should your fate
tie you to duties of an uneventful nature, should you be out of the
fighting and excitement, and have little chance of distinguishing
yourself, remember that your work may be quite as necessary and useful,
if not so showy. So, whatever you may be called upon to do, do it
gladly. I will write to Jackson.---- Oh! I forgot--I am sending Colonel
Boldre a couple of Sikh native officers for his regiment, tried men who
have been proved and found faithful. They will go with you. They are
good men; remember that. Good-day!"
Delighted with the turn of events Ted hastened to call upon the two
Sikh officers. "Jim was right," he said to himself as he swung his leg
over the saddle, "I am a lucky beggar. It's better being in a British
regiment than in a poorbeah lot, but better still to be with Sikh and
Pathan cavalry or Gurkha infantry, because Tommy has to be taken such
care of, or he'll have sunstroke or cholera, or he'll wander away and
get his throat cut, or else walk into an ambush. But these Cossacks of
the Punjab are in at most of the fun, and they catch Pandy in snares
instead of being caught by him."
Colonel Bratherton presented him to the two Sikhs. They were brothers,
and in spite of a few years' difference in age, he could hardly tell one
from the other. Each was dressed in white--no colour being more popular
among the Sikhs--the snowy turbans setting off the triangle of dark face
left visible, with piercing eyes, deep-set and determined, the
well-shaped nose, tight mouth, and long beard and moustache twisted and
turned upwards over the ears. They were tall and strong, with thin but
sinewy legs--in fact, all that Sikhs should be.
Ted asked their names. Govind Singh was the elder, named after the last
of the Sikh high-priests; Hira Singh the younger. He told them who he
was, and that they must set out for Jalandar that night; and they looked
him up and down with doubtful eyes, evidently not too favourably
impressed by his youthful appearance. Ted found himself somewhat afraid
of those eyes; they seemed to hold so much in reserve. But he felt that
in a tight place he would be glad to be backed by men with eyes like
theirs.
"When will you be ready?" he asked.
"Now," said Govind Singh.
"Then we set out after sundown."
"Very good, sahib! We go to Lucknow to help Henry Larens."
"But he is dead," Ted informed him.
Govind Singh shook his head.
"That is a poorbeah lie," said he. "As if those jackals of Oudh could
kill the great chief!"
Astounded by the Sikh's incredulity, Ted asked if he had seen Sir Henry
Lawrence.
"I? I knew him well, and so did Hira Singh, my brother. When the English
fought the Afghans, nearly twenty years ago, we were at Peshawur in the
Sikh army under Avitabile. The Sikh government had granted you Feringhis
a passage through the Punjab, but we Sikh soldiers preferred our old
enemies the Afghans, and we refused to fight on your side. We were ready
to eat up your Khyber column in those days, and would have done it too,
but for Henry Larens Sahib, who won our hearts, so that we fought for
him, aye, even to Kabul. Then when we challenged you to war six years
later and were beaten, he ruled the Punjab justly and with righteous
dealing, as his brother does to-day. Jan Larens is a good and great man
likewise, but Henry we loved most. We knew him well."
"It is true," echoed Hira Singh. "If all the Feringhis were like unto
Henry Larens there would have been no mutiny. Just is he, and he
understands us and knows our ways of thinking as no other white man has
ever done. He loved us, yet was he firm--firm as is his brother, and
never was there a braver man. How he defied us all at Peshawur, though
at our mercy! And so great was his ikbal (prestige), that he forced us
to aid him even against our will. Jan Larens is a just and good man, but
for Henry Larens we would gladly lay down our lives. I know that he is
dead, but my brother will not believe it."
"We will be ready before sundown, sahib," Govind Singh assured Ted as he
left them, greatly impressed by this evidence of the influence of one
good man, who had so won over his former enemies that they had become
his staunchest friends.
Ensign Russell's kit was not extensive. He was now quite an old
campaigner, having learned at Delhi how to do without many luxuries that
he had formerly considered necessities. He gave his Mohammedan servant
instructions to prepare for a long journey, and Kasim Ali received the
news as a matter of course. Strange must be the lives of these Indian
servants, who are ready to change their place of abode at a moment's
notice for another hundreds of miles away. At Delhi, after the capture
of the town, Ted had picked up a bargain in the shape of a nice Arab,
good-tempered, robust, and speedy. But he also needed an animal for
Kasim Ali, and another for his kit and supplies, so he now called upon
an Afghan dealer whose horses he had previously noticed. The Afghan
brought out one sorry brute after another and tried to pass them off as
veritable treasures, such as Aurungzebe himself might have envied. Ted
looked guileless, and the Afghan was pained to hear him remark:
"I'm in a hurry. If you have no horses, say so, and I'll go elsewhere."
The wily coper began to see that his customer was no ignorant griffin,
so he changed his tone, dropped his protestations, and finally brought
out a couple of serviceable beasts, not showy, but strong and in good
condition. Ted at once declared that they would suit, and named the sum
he was prepared to give; and the Afghan, seeing that it was "take or
leave", ceased to haggle, and closed the bargain, not dissatisfied with
the profit he had made. Kasim Ali led the steeds away.
"Must go and say good-bye to Ethel and the colonel next," said the
ensign to himself.
Colonel Woodburn and his daughter had remained in Lahore after the
unsatisfactory conclusion of the trial, in order to be able to give the
lad any advice or assistance within their power. They were staying with
a civilian friend of the colonel, towards whose bungalow Ted turned his
horse's steps. The news that he had been cleared was already out, and
Ethel waved her hand joyously as he hove in sight. Sending a servant to
take the horse, she motioned the ensign to join her in the verandah.
"I am delighted, Ted!" she began. "Do you feel like a free man again?"
Ted sank luxuriously into the easy-chair.
"Ethel," he said with unwonted seriousness, "I feel like the man in the
_Pilgrim's Progress_, whose burden has rolled from his shoulders. I
suppose you have heard how the truth came out?"
"Yes; Lieutenant Kendal has told us the whole story this morning. But
what has become of Tynan? What is to be done with him? Poor lad! he's
had a harder time than you, Ted."
"Yes," Ted slowly answered, "I know he has. I'm sorry for him, and I
don't know what has become of him. I don't think that Sir John has been
hard upon him. Perhaps he's been able in some way to give him another
chance. Sir John was very kind to me."
"They say he is stern, but I've never found him so.---- Well, father,
here's the innocent victim of conspiracy, righted at last, and let off
on condition that he won't do it again."
Colonel Woodburn and his host had entered the verandah. They
congratulated Ted, and Mr. Moncrief added:
"You'll have tiffin with us, Mr. Russell? Make yourself at home here
while you stay in Lahore."
"You're very good, Mr. Moncrief, but I'm leaving in a few hours. I'll
stay to lunch, though, thanks!"
"That's right. Where are you going, then?"
Ted related the offer made to him by Sir John, and expressed his delight
at the prospect. He had come to say good-bye.
"Colonel Boldre is a very nice man," Ethel said meditatively. "Father
knows him well. I suppose you're an ensign no longer, then? I am glad to
meet you, Lieutenant Russell."
Ted laughed.
"It's a promotion in a way, I suppose," said he, "but I'm not gazetted
lieutenant yet."
"You soon will be, though," Colonel Woodburn assured him. "Your
appointment is practically equal to promotion. Boldre is a good soldier.
I wish I were equal to it."
"Do you still suffer any pain from the wound, colonel?" Ted asked.
"Hardly now, Ted. Still, I'm not fit for active service, only for
garrison and depot."
"Tiffin is ready," Mr. Moncrief announced. "Lead the way, Miss
Woodburn."
By seven o'clock Lieutenant Edward Russell, Risaldar[25] Govind Singh,
Ressaidar Hira Singh, and Kasim Ali were on their way to Amritsar by the
very road along which Ted had journeyed twenty-four hours ago. Jalandar
was reached on the second day without mishap, and without any incident
more exciting than a half-hour's alarm occasioned by the approach of a
body of Native Horse. They turned out to be a detachment of the force
maintained by the Sikh Raja of Kapurthala, a loyal prince who, in
response to John Lawrence's invitation, had assisted the British at
Delhi, and whose men were now engaged in keeping a portion of the great
highway clear of budmashes and guerrilla mutineers.
[25] The cavalry ranks of _Risaldar_ and _Ressaidar_ correspond
in some degree to the English _Major_ and _Captain_. The
senior native officers, however, rank below the Junior
British officers.
Ted was hospitably received by Mr. Jackson, a civilian official of the
Cis-Sutlej States, who had enlisted some forty or fifty horsemen--Sikhs
from the Jalandar Doab and Dogras from Kangra. A few days were needed in
order to give the levies a little polish and complete their equipment,
and during this period Ted stayed with Mr. Jackson. Then they set out
for Delhi, through Ludhiana and Amballa.
Five months before a certain ensign had ridden along that road with the
Corps of Guides, a lad in the highest of spirits. "Glory of youth glowed
in his soul", as he rode by his brother's side and surveyed that
splendid regiment, the pride of the Punjab, and, engrossed in the
splendour of the martial array, he had given little thought to the
horrors.
Five months ago! At times it seemed as many years, and yet again, as
they passed some landmark, and a vivid recollection of some chance
remark flashed across his brain, at such a time it seemed but yesterday.
His spirits were still high, but experience had somewhat sobered him. He
thought of the great events of that fateful period, of the scenes of
carnage, of the lost friends and comrades, of the great Nicholson, of
the plucky little Gurkhas, and those days at the house of Hindu Rao. How
many of those grand men of the Guides, with whom he had ridden across
the Punjab, had gone back to their depot at Hoti Mardan? How many of the
little Gurkhas, whose arrival in the British camp he had witnessed, had
marched back to their station in the hills of Dehra Dun? What months
those had been for India and for himself! Then the rebels were winning
at every point, except in the Punjab. Now the Mogul capital was once
more in the hands of the British, the emperor was a captive, and though
much remained to be done, the end of the great mutiny was in sight.
In the towns along the Ganges and its tributaries the sepoy hordes still
held the upper hand, and their numbers were daily increasing. Gallant
Havelock and chivalrous Outram had at length broken their way through
and relieved the intrepid garrison of Lucknow, but the mutineers had
closed behind them, and they in their turn were shut up in the
Residency, and Henry Lawrence, the best-loved Englishman who had ever
set foot in India, was dead. Hardly a big town along the Ganges but had
its tale of murder and black treachery to unfold.
Delhi had been captured, but its swarms of mutineers had gone to augment
the ranks of the sepoys who were holding a reign of terror in Oudh; and
though Sir Colin Campbell was at the head of a fine army, there were
still threescore rebels against each white man.
Arrived at the Mogul capital, Ted learned that Colonel Boldre had gone
on to Agra, whither he was to proceed with all speed. The route thus far
was open, for the Delhi column under Hope Grant and Greathed had cleared
the way, and fifty mounted Irregulars had little to fear from
undisciplined and cowardly budmashes.